


Put it in the Pantry, With Your Cupcakes

by emmaliza



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Come Shot, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Face-Fucking, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Oral Sex, Pseudo-Incest, Rough Sex, Secret Relationship, Seduction, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Tension, Snowballing, Spitroasting, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-20 05:19:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13710681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmaliza/pseuds/emmaliza
Summary: Jon visits the Starks' house, learns a secret, and gains one of his own.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the asoiaf kink meme prompt: "Catelyn/Jon or Catelyn/Theon or Catelyn/Jon/Theon, She's not his/their mother, so what's so wrong about it?" Aka. my attempt to write a version of this threesome that's less ungodlily depressing than End of Days was.
> 
> Title comes from "Mrs. Robinson", by Simon & Garfunkel.

Frankly, Jon thinks it's unfair he was the one sent back to fetch the sandwiches for their picnic when they realised they'd left them back at the Stark residence, since he's the only one who doesn't live there. But he lost rock paper scissors, and Robb spends enough time making fun of him for being so sulky all the time as is. He half-considered suggesting they just call his cousins' mother and ask her to drop them off, but no, he won't add more burden to the middle-aged woman suffering the tail end of a surprisingly intense cold for the height of summer. He'll do the chivalrous thing, and go get the damn sandwiches himself.

He's surprised when he knocks on the door and no-one answers. But, he reasons, Aunt Catelyn is probably just asleep. Luckily, he knows where they keep their spare key, hidden behind a set of windchimes so annoying that no-one should disturb them long enough to find the small mat under which it lies. The door slides open with a dull scritching noise, and Jon steps into the cool dark hallway.

Jon hasn't spend as much time in this house recently as he did as a kid, not since his Uncle Ned died. It's not as if he doesn't get on with his aunt, she's nice, if a little reserved, but Ned was the same – still, he doesn't feel like he knows her the way he did his uncle. Blood ties, he guesses.

Their hallway is carpeted in a smooth off-white that smothers the sound of his footsteps. The further he walks in, he remembers how quiet this house can be, thick walls swallowing the noise of the outside world, and how his mum always told him you had to knock at least four times to be sure someone would hear you. That might be why she didn't answer the door.

He means to make his way to the kitchen, grab the sandwiches and be gone, say a quick hello to his aunt if he runs into her – but avoid a cup of tea if he can, which he probably can't, Aunt Catelyn has an almost Mrs. Doyle-ish devotion to hospitality. Still, as he sneaks through the hallway he hears the dull roar of an air conditioner, but he doesn't run into anyone.

Then, he hears a different noise. A long, low moan.

Puzzled, Jon frowns, and then without even thinking about it, he pokes his head curiously into the room he thinks the sound came from, the living room.

And _oh god_.

There's Aunt Catelyn, sitting on the couch in full blast of the air conditioner, which is fair enough on a day like today, indeed her just sitting there would be fair enough, except for how she's sitting. Wine in hand she wears a baby blue t-shirt and nothing else, breath fogging up the rim of her glass as she pants, eyes firmly shut and her face pink -you'd think that would be the cold, but she's not alone. Between her knees is a man kneeling, a young man it seems, messy hair tossed over his shoulders as his head bobs over her–

Jon turns bright red and averts his eyes, cursing himself. This is none of his business. If his aunt has a boytoy to keep her company while her kids are out, great, good for her. His uncle's been dead almost three years now, she's allowed to move on. Jon should just go to the kitchen and get the sandwiches, and hopefully she'll never know he was here. It's nothing to do with him.

But then she moans again, louder, shameless, and a muffled chuckle comes from the other voice in that room. Jon can't help peering in once more, and when he does, that silhouette between her thighs becomes familiar. His t-shirt wears some obnoxious slogan about love and hate Jon can't be bothered reading, his jeans are clearly expensively pre-stressed, and he can see how much mousse has been used to make his hair look artfully messy. He only knows the one person who dresses like such a tool. Theon fucking Greyjoy.

Jon's jaw almost drops open. He remembers he was relieved when Robb told him Theon wouldn't be joining them today, for once. They've never exactly got on. _Some girl, he says,_ Robb told him with a fond smile and a roll of his eyes, and oh, if only he knew. _The hell is he doing?!_ Jon thinks as Aunt Catelyn tugs at probably-Theon's hair. Theon is Robb's best friend, and Robb is going to kill him for this. Jon doesn't know anyone who recites the tenets of the Bro Code as nigh-religiously as Theon does, but he's pretty sure chief among those is 'thou shalt not bang thy bros' mothers'.

Caught in his shock, he can't help staring, and as he does the more of the scene he takes in. Catelyn's long red hair tumbling down across her chest. Her nipples poking through the thin fabric of her t-shirt, wet with sweat and letting Jon see the curve of her more than ample bosom. Her bare legs, smooth white and seeming miles long. And Theon moaning as her fingernails dig into his scalp, as if the hint of pain only spurs him on, and Jon feels his cock throb at the sight. _Fuck._

_No, no, I'm not turned on by this, I can't be,_ he tells himself as he keeps ogling, Catelyn's breath hitching as she pulls Theon further against her cunt. She's his aunt, for god's sakes, even if not by blood – and he's always hand a thing for redheads, but still, he's known her since he was a baby, and how would he ever think of his Uncle Ned without shame again? And Theon, fuck, Theon; Jon won't say he's a complete 1 on the Kinsey scale but still, he doesn't even _like_ Theon, he's never known what so many girls see in him, and he would never expect a woman like Catelyn Tully Stark to fall for it, that smug grin and leering looks and the promise he knows exactly how to work you over–

Jon's thoughts get interrupted as Catelyn moans again, her fingers pulling dark hairs recklessly. “Theon, harder,” she orders, and that confirms it than, and Jon's cock throbs again at her voice, low and dark, cold and yet boiling hot, lust and roughness burrowed beneath cool composure. It makes him think that if Theon doesn't please her, still take him over her knee and spank him until he learns better, and he bites his lip not to moan at the thought. Shit, shit, now is not the time to start imagining his aunt as a dominatrix.

He is lost, his cock straining against his jeans, and he thoughtlessly reaches down and rubs it with the heel of his hand to try and give it some relief. Fuck, what is he doing? They have no idea he's here. Even if his cousin's mum and his best friend having an affair is a bad idea, that doesn't mean they have no right to privacy, and Jon isn't going to jerk himself off spying on them.

Jon forces himself to look away, back against the wall, panting. It makes him wonder how they haven't seen him, but he supposes they're rather distracted. Somehow, it doesn't help, as their moans come louder and clearer through the walls and Jon can't help but imagine Catelyn totally naked, wine still in hand, looking like a goddess and offering herself to be worshipped, and he can just imagine how he'd moan if he ever got his mouth on her cunt. He'd put Theon to shame, to be sure. _My aunt,_ he reminds himself, but an insidious voice in his head reminds him, _but not by blood._ And Theon, god, he's moaning as Catelyn uses his mouth harder and faster, and Jon never thought such an arrogant prick could be so submissive. He wonders how Theon would moan around a cock in his mouth instead. _Oh fuck._

He needs to go; grab the sandwiches first, because there'll be questions if he comes back without them, but then return to the picnic and pretend this never happened. As quietly as he can, he creeps further along the hallway, finally making it to the kitchen where that wicker basket of sandwiches waits for him, almost taunting him in how easy it should have been to remember. His cock still aches, and fuck, he's tempted just to jerk himself off here and now in the kitchen, since they're willing to do it in the living room, but no, he'd never get away with that. Recklessly, he grabs for the basket's handle, and before he knows it he knocks a metal spatula down onto the cold marble floor, and it lands with a _thwing!_

Somehow, this quiet house gets even quieter. “What is it, what's wrong?” he hears Aunt Catelyn ask, and takes that as meaning Theon has stopped for some reason.

“Thought I heard something,” Theon mutters, and Jon holds his breath. “But it's probably nothing. My skills rocking your world, literally.”

Jon can practically hear Catelyn rolling her eyes. “Get on with it.” And Theon's grin is just as loud.

“Yes ma'am.”

He lets out his breath as their shared moans fill the air again, and takes the basket in his shaky grasp, sneaking back down the corridor and praying they're too preoccupied to notice. Thankfully, he makes it outside, pushing the basket into the passenger seat and taking the driver's himself. Unfortunately, as he sighs he realises his cock is still aching, and he's not in any fit state to drive, not yet.

Cursing himself, Jon hurriedly undoes his fly and pushes a hand into his boxers, wanking himself off hurriedly, all the while thinking _fucking hell, what have I gotten myself into?_


	2. Chapter 2

The fact Jon knows where Theon lives is a bit of an accident of history, the result of many years getting dragged along on Theon's various attempts to lead Robb astray, and inevitably ending up having to help Robb get Theon home in one piece instead. Going there is a bad idea, but Jon isn't thinking straight, driven wild with frustration.

The picnic was awkward, to say the least, with Jon terrified his cousins would smell the sweat and semen on him, and he could barely look any of them in the eye without thinking of the mother they take so much after, without wondering what she, and Theon, were doing now. Had he made her come with that mouth of his? Has she returned the favour? Was she lying back on the couch and spreading her legs for–

His cousins did invite him back to their house as the sun set, saying their mother wouldn't mind adding an extra plate for dinner (once Robb told him, while drunk and somewhat melancholy, his mum was still in the habit of making enough at each meal for his dad). Jon declined, telling them he had to work. That was a lie, but he had to say something. He knew he wouldn't be able to look his aunt in the eye and pretend he hadn't seen anything, that he did not know what she looked like panting in pleasure with a young man eating her–

The reasonable thing to do then, would be to drive straight home, and pretend it never happened, at least until he inevitably found himself thinking about it during his late-night wank. _Dammit_. But instead he rushes from the picnic over to Theon's shithole flat, with no idea what he even plans to do when gets there.

When he does get there, he worries that he might be too early, that Theon won't be back yet. That he and Catelyn might have been enjoying themselves too much to stop. But, he reasons, if his cousins are all heading home then his aunt would have sent Theon packing too; she wouldn't run the risk of them catching her. Sure enough, he rings the doorbell and there comes a muffled curse from inside. Somebody's home.

Theon opens the door and Jon almost curses aloud himself. Theon clearly wasn't expecting his appearance, and looks like he's just gotten out of the shower, wet hair clinging to the nape of his neck and dressed only in a pair of jeans. Jon watches the water bead on one of Theon's nipples, as wide and round as a girl's, and bites his lip as his cock throbs. He tries desperately not to stare, and fails. “Jon?” Theon asks, drawing Jon's attention back to his face. He's confused, clearly, but not the least bit ashamed of showing up half-naked. Of course not. Prick. “Er, hi. Did you want something?”

“Catelyn,” Jon spits out, and as Theon blinks at him he blushes faintly. Fuck, that came out wrong. “I mean – my aunt, we – we need to talk.”

Theon just sighs and steps aside, letting Jon into the dark dingy hall of his flat, and Jon tries to swallow his embarrassment long enough to glower effectively. “You and Mrs. Stark,” he says, and he wonders if that's what Theon still calls her when they're alone together, or if he uses her first name then, or even a nickname. Does he call her _Cat_ like Uncle Ned used to?

Slowly, a smirk spreads across Theon's face. “Me and Mrs. Stark. We've got a thing going on.” Then he pauses. “Wait, how the hell do you know?”

Jon's blush deepens at that, but he does his best to ignore it. “I saw you,” he says, and Theon looks surprised. “We forgot the sandwiches for the picnic, and I got sent back to get them. And I saw you with her, Theon.”

“Ah,” says Theon, and at the very least his cheeks go a little pink then, but he shrugs. “Thought I heard something. Well then, good for you. Why are you here though?”

That only makes Jon madder.

“Are you a complete idiot?!” he spits, and Theon winces slightly. “She's Robb's mother. You're his best friend. Exactly how do you think he's not going to murder you if he ever finds out?”

Theon sighs. “Well, yeah, he probably is, which is why I'd rather he didn't, Snow.” Theon raises an eyebrow at him, almost pleading, except Theon would never plead with him, and Jon swears under his breath. He _should_ just tell Robb, if only to punish Theon for being such a smug prick about it, but then again they're still his family, and he doesn't want to have to deal with the fallout between Aunt Catelyn and her children. “Look, it's not like I planned all this, alright?” says Theon, and Jon raises an eyebrow.

“What, you tripped and all of a sudden your mouth was on her cunt?”

Theon rolls his eyes. “It was Robb's birthday, I was drunk, she was drunk, we were both horny. Why not right?” That is absolutely not a good enough excuse. “And since then, well, she's a busy single mum and a career woman, she doesn't exactly have a lot of time to get out and meet men. Why shouldn't she have a handsome young boytoy at her beck and call?” he asks. “It's a good arrangement, Snow. I get sex, she gets sex, neither of us expects anything more from it. Aren't you glad I'm not breaking girls' hearts and hymens anymore?”

Jon curses again. Yes, he is glad that Theon is being less of a dick about his borderline sex addiction now, Robb's good influence he supposes, and it's not like he thinks his aunt shouldn't have sex if she wants too, but he's still angry. He's just not sure about what. _If her kids find out, it'll be a total disaster for everyone,_ he thinks, but while that is true it still somehow rings hollow. Maybe this is none of his business. But he wonders, does it bother him, that it really is just sex? Does he think it ought to be more than that? Or if it was, would that only make him angrier?

As he considers this, he does not answer Theon's question, and during the time Jon gives him Theon looks Jon up and down contemplatively. “Hang on. I know why you're so pissed.” And Jon's eyes snap back to his face as Theon grins wickedly. “You're jealous.”

Jon turns bright red and his jaw drops open. “Theon!” he shouts, scandalised, and Theon just gives him an innocent _what?_ look. “She's my _aunt_!”

“Only by marriage,” Theon shrugs at him, and Jon's eyes go wide. “And to be fair, I never said who I thought you were jealous of. Although that might have been a giveaway just there.”

He continues gawping, and he should push Theon in his smug, stupid face and storm out, but instead he remains frozen as Theon takes a step towards him, and he ends up pressed against the door with a _thud_. Fuck, what is happening? “She's a freak you know,” Theon whispers in his air, and Jon shudders as he feels the man's breath on his skin, realises how close he's gotten. “She swallows my come and takes it up the arse, begs for it so hard even I'm worried I might break her. You ought to be careful, Jon. Mrs. Stark might be too wild for a good boy like you.”

Jon moans aloud and when Theon's hand finds his chest, touching him through his t-shirt, he feels like he's burning. He must have been half-hard through this whole conversation, and when Theon's hand drifts down, groping him through his jeans, he quickly firms up all the way. “Oh fuck, would you feel that?” Theon chuckles at him, and Jon ought to push him away, but instead he can't do anything but push further into it, longing to be touched. “You know, if I turned up on her doorstep with that, she'd drop to her knees and suck my cock.”

There's a thud and Jon gasps as he looks down and sees Theon kneeling before him, smirking as he tugs at the zip of Jon's jeans. _Oh fuck._ Theon doesn't seem to have the least bit of shame about being about to blow him, and Jon reasons he must have done it before, which makes his head spin; he didn't even know Theon liked men. It's wrong, but oh _god_ does he want to stuff that smirking mouth with his cock. His jeans, old and threadbare, fall to the ground easily and Theon presses underneath, nosing at his balls through his briefs.

Jon groans and finds his hands threading through Theon's hair, still wet from the shower. He yanks him forward, and Theon gasps. “Get on with it,” he orders in a voice low and rough, it doesn't even sound like him.

Theon pulls back a second, and grins. “You sound just like your aunt, Snow,” he teases, and then he pulls away Jon's underwear and swallows his prick whole.

“Oh fuck!” Jon cries out, tightening his fingers in Theon's hair, and Theon barely even gags as Jon slides into his throat. He must have done this before, no-one sucks cock like that without some practice, and Jon moans helplessly as Theon sets a quick pace, bobbing his head ruthlessly and efficiently, making Jon tremble against him.

Theon moans too, he moans around Jon's cock and Jon looks down to see him with his eyes closed, reaching down to knead at his own cock through his jeans, looking like something out of gay porn. Jon can't help but thrust deeper down his throat. _Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck._ Theon gags a moment, but he doesn't let up, taking everything Jon gives him and only moaning louder as he does so, his spare hand coming up to feel and fondle Jon's balls as he sucks. _He likes pissing people off,_ Jon realises as he stares, remembering what he saw before, Catelyn with her wine in hand, ordering Theon as he ate her cunt like a goddess on earth. _He likes it when we get rough with him, when we order him about._

Curiously, he tightens his hands in Theon's hair again, pulling him down further and making him gag properly, holding him there. “You're a slut, Theon,” he whispers as the man chokes and whimpers around his dick, and it pulses in his throat. “Fucking your best friend's mum behind closed doors, sucking his cousin's cock. Doesn't even matter what we ask of you, does it, so long as you get sex?”

He lets go and Theon moans again, louder, before bobbing his head more furiously as he fumbles for his own zip. Jon leans his head back against the door and lets himself fuck Theon's eager mouth, giving in to his lusts. He will feel terrible about this as soon as he comes, but that is not right now.

Indulging, he imagines what it would be like if Catelyn was here with them. Would she be kneeling behind Theon's back, her chin tucked over his shoulder, her voice sweet and motherly. _There's a good boy, take it all the way down,_ she would whisper as Theon deepthroats him with nary a gag, her hand wanking him off. Would she lean forward and take Jon's balls in her mouth, joining in as Theon worships his shaft?

Jon moans and a tremor runs through him, he barely manages to push Theon back and choke out some noise that could charitably be called a warning before he shoots his load, his come spluttering messily all over Theon's chin, and Jon gasps and reaches down to grasp his prick and wring out the last drops of it. Theon mewls and his hand, which he must have got down the front of his jeans while Jon wasn't looking, moves faster, faster, faster, until it stops. Jon watches Theon gasp and shivers, bucking into his own grip. He's clearly coming, and he's coming when Jon's just come on his face, and _fuck._

They spend a few moments panting to get their breath back, and then Theon wipes his chin with the back of his hand already stained with his own seed. Needless to say, it doesn't do much good. “Try warning me next time, yeah?” he says.

And Jon blushes, embarrassed both by what he just did and by the thought there will be a next time. “Sorry,” he mutters.

Theon scoffs. “I just took a shower too,” he says, and Jon almost rolls his eyes at that. _Well, that's what you get for being a slut,_ he's tempted to say, but he bites his tongue. There's a difference between saying that while Theon's sucking his cock, and clearly enjoying it, and doing so at any other time. Theon groans as he pushes himself back up to his feet, and then he sighs. “So, let me guess,” he says, a smirk playing on his features. “You'd rather Robb not hear about this?”

Jon glares at him. “Are you trying to blackmail me, Greyjoy?” he asks, and Theon just shrugs. “Don't forget, I've got more on you than you have on me.” Don't forget, Theon's the one who's actually fucked Robb's mother. Not the one who only wants to.

Theon shrugs. “Yeah, true,” he says. “But still: you're not exactly a blushing innocent.” He pauses. “For that matter, neither's she.”

At that, Jon scowls and leaves, certain Theon's neighbours will all know exactly what he was there for. But still, he can't deny that Theon has a point.


	3. Chapter 3

He shouldn't be surprised that, barely a week after catching his aunt and her son's best friend, leading to him getting himself sucked off by the latter (a week that passes with him unable to go a single night without wanking over his memories; the sight of Catelyn spreading her legs, the feel of Theon's mouth around his cock) he ends up invited over to family dinner by the former. “She was weirdly insist about it,” Arya says when she tells him, and Jon valiantly represses the instinct to smash his head against the kitchen counter, lest she notice anything's amiss. “I don't know, you know my mum. She worries whenever anything's out of her sight for too long.”

And maybe she's right, maybe it's pure coincidence. Or maybe Catelyn does know, maybe Theon told her everything, and now she's going to confront him over having spied on her fucking like a horny teenage boy, and what would he say to that? Hell, maybe she doesn't know for sure, but one of her children told her how weird he was acting on their picnic and she's put two and two together. That might be even worse.

Either way though, he turns up on their doorstep that Saturday night and he tells himself he's just going to act like everything's normal. After all, he tells himself, it's just the shock of it all that means what he saw is so burned into his memory, that it's consuming every other sexual fantasy he's ever had. He'll get over it. Being blown by Theon, well, Robb might be slightly annoyed if he knew about that, but it's not like there's anything objectively wrong with it. But Catelyn is still his aunt, even if not by blood, and he'd never actually fuck her. Right?

That lasts until she opens the door, smiling warmly, and he wonders if her cheeks really do colour pink like that at the sight of him, or is that just his imagination? She's wearing a figure-hugging cobalt-blue dress that brings out her eyes and makes her hair look even redder than usual, and that would be so easy to stain. “Jon,” she says as she pulls him into a hug, and his cock twitches just at having her so close. _Fuck._ Luckily, she doesn't seem to notice.

Jon distracts himself by going to catch him with his cousins before dinner, trying to think about anything other than their mother. Luckily, Theon isn't joining them, as he often does – Robb says that Theon's family life is so messed up, he only gets nice homecooked meals at their place. And okay, Jon isn't totally without sympathy. But still, if Theon was here Jon can just imagine he'd be leaning in to whisper in his ear, telling him how fuckable his aunt looks tonight, that he had her just few minutes before Jon turned up and she's still dripping with his come, whether or not it was true. Jon's not sure he could control himself then.

Still, eventually they have to sit down for dinner, and he can't avoid his aunt then, not when she's bent over the table to serve him his veal and rice. Fuck, for a woman with five kids her arse is still as round and firm as a girl half her age's, and Jon digs his nails into his thigh beneath the table.

It's almost suspicious, the number of questions she asks him, about his work, his mother, his life in general, like it's the most fascinating subject she knows. _She's just being polite_ , he tells himself, although he's not sure he believes it. Perhaps she's nervous. Either way, he knows he's not being terribly polite back, mumbling his answers and avoiding looking in her eyes whenever he can. He can't help himself though, whenever he looks at her he can only imagine her getting on her knees beneath the table and crawling over to suck his cock. If Theon were here he'd probably be under the table himself, one hand around Jon's dick and his mouth on Catelyn's cunt, with none of her children any the wiser. Mother of _god_.

Thankfully, Jon manages to force his erection to fade somewhat, enough that it's not that noticeable through the baggy jeans he's wearing, not unless you're looking ( _is she looking?_ he wonders, and then he wants to slap himself) – just in time before they're all finished, rising from the table. It's a hot summer's night and the kids all want to go out and play. Robb chuckles and tells him “well, we ought to keep an eye on them.”

And Jon nods, half-relieved, half-disappointed to have an escape from the house. But before he can go, Catelyn coughs to get his attention. “Actually Jon, could you wait for me in the living room?” she asks as she collects their plates. “You can catch up with your cousins later, I just wanted to talk to you about something.”

Robb gives him a puzzled look and Jon tries with everything he has in him not to blush. _Fuck_. “Er, alright,” he says before he thinks better of it, and he returns Robb's puzzled look as if he doesn't know exactly what this is about. Well, he doesn't _know_ know.

Jon makes his way to the living room as Robb follows his younger siblings outside. The same living room where he saw them. Jon thinks the can smell the lingering scent of sex in the room, although that might just be paranoia, or possibly her ocean breeze air freshener. _You don't know she knows,_ he reminds himself. Maybe she just wants to talk to him about money or living arrangements or something, and didn't want to embarrass him in front of his cousins. Maybe she's still nothing but his aunt, and he's a filthy, degenerate pervert for having thought everything he has tonight.

_Or perhaps she does know,_ he thinks. Robb and the rest of them are all busy outside after all; right now, he's all alone in the house with her. _Maybe she knows what I saw, and she knows what I want._ His pretense he doesn't want to fuck her has completely disintegrated in the face of actually seeing her. _Maybe she'll come in and she'll pin me to this couch and she'll ride me so hard and fast I beg and cry, all before the kids even notice I'm gone._

Jon bites his lip so as not to moan. It's a stupid fantasy; even if Aunt Catelyn does know what he knows, why on Earth would she take that as her cue to throw herself at him? True, Theon did, but Catelyn is not like Theon, he's pretty sure (although she is fucking him...). Just because she's sleeping with one man half her age doesn't mean she'll immediately want to take on another, let alone her own damn nephew ( _by marriage,_ Theon's voice unhelpfully adds). If she knows, she'll likely be embarrassed, upset, and above all else, not want him to tell her children. She is still above all else his cousins' mother, far more than she's the target of his adolescent sexual fantasies.

Just then she actually enters the room, and Jon jumps, caught off-guard but luckily, not demonstrating his arousal too visibly. “Jon,” she greets him, wringing her hands together, and there's no denying it now, she's clearly _very_ nervous. _Fuck_. She sighs. “Look, this is going to be uncomfortable for the both of us, so I'm just going to come right out with it,” she says. “Theon told me that you told him you'd seen – well. Something you shouldn't.” She blushes and helps herself to a seat on the couch. “Us. Together.”

Jon blushes too, averting his eyes. “I wasn't going to tell anyone,” he blurts out before she can ask the question. “I-it's none of my business. I shouldn't have even mentioned it, I'm sorry.”

“Oh,” she responds, and when Jon looks up, he can see her face flooding with relief, her mouth quirking in a tiny, cautious smile, and dear god how he wants it wrapped around his dick. _I'm going to hell_ , he thinks. “Still, you must have many questions.”

Despite himself, he can't help smiling at that. “I'm not a child.”

“Oh, I know that.” She drawls the words just a second too long, and they both pause, Jon's heart thumping and his prick surging back to life. _Fuck_. Catelyn coughs again and looks down at the cushions. “Still. Take a seat.”

Jon knows this is a bad idea, it's the same damn couch he caught her and Theon fucking on, but still he obediently perches by her side. Catelyn sighs. “I just don't want you to think I'm taking advantage,” she says, and Jon blinks, bewildered. “I know he's a lot younger than me–”

“But he's also Theon Greyjoy,” Jon says. “Trust me, I know you're far from the first older woman he's–” _fucked_ , and that word calls to images of her spreading her legs with Theon's cock plowing her until she screams, and crap, that is the worst thing to be thinking right now, “–been with. I wasn't really worried about that.”

She smiles a little again. “I see. I'm sorry Jon, I suppose since your uncle died I've been–”

“Lonely?”

And Catelyn flushes. “Partially that,” she says and averts her eyes once more, and Jon flushes in return. _Horny,_ he supposes is the other part, the part he knows it's dangerous to think about. “Look, I know what I have with Theon isn't true love or anything like that. It wasn't meant to happen, really, just a drunken mistake that became a habit. But it makes me feel good. You'd be surprised how rare that can be for a woman of my age.”

Jon nods along. _I want to make you feel good,_ he thinks. Dear god, he wants to _fuck_ her; to fall on his knees and beg her to let him eat her out, to bend her over the couch and pound her cunt so hard she'd scream his name loud enough for the whole neighbourhood to hear. His cock throbs and no matter how hard he squeezes his legs together, he knows he is totally doomed.

“I understand,” he tells her, and she looks surprised. “I don't mind what you get up to behind closed doors. Everyone has the right to misbehave a little.”

_That doesn't sound like me,_ he thinks as the words fall out of him, but they make her smile.  _What about him being Robb's best friend?_  Vaguely, he wonders if Theon told her everything else too; what he did when Jon confronted him, and how Jon reacted. Did Theon whisper dirty things in her ear about him, the same way Theon whispered them in his ear about her?

“Thank you, Jon,” she tells him, and stands up. He cannot follow her, not yet. But she doesn't seem to notice. “You are such a sweet boy.”

She leans over and gives him a chaste, motherly, peck on the cheek. That tiny bit of contact makes him bite his lip, makes his dick twitch, makes him shudder against the couch. And she doesn't notice. He is _so_ doomed.

 


	4. Chapter 4

In the middle of his struggle with his own lust, Jon forgot something big coming up: Sansa's birthday, just at the end of summer. The sweet sixteenth pool party she's been planning since she was nine, so he can hardly not go. But of course Catelyn will be there, and Theon probably will be too, since he tends to turn up at all big Stark family events, and Jon doesn't know if he trusts himself around either of them. He's just relieved his own mother calls and asks him to apologise and tell them she has to work that day; he doesn't know how he'd look her in the eye.

He turns up on their doorstep and his aunt greets him, of course she does. “Hi Jon,” she says, panting and out of breath, probably just because she's been running around getting things ready all day, but what if not? God, she looks good, navy blue swimsuit beneath a gauzey white robe and sarong, not concealing her long slim legs that he wants to hook over her shoulders as he eats her out. Fuck. He says hello and steps inside, letting her carry on as if everything is normal and he has no idea what she looks like with her face thrown back inside. Still, luckily for him she soon disappears, off to the kitchen to make food for Sansa's hoarde of friends (damn her for being the member of this family with actual social skills), and Jon sighs, perhaps relieved not to be given the chance to offer her a hand (which he would likely feel obliged to do) and so steps out to the pool.

It's quite busy out there; he seems to be a bit late, as everyone's already splashing in the water, having a good time. Jon doesn't know most of Sansa's friends, really, although he at least recognises Margaery and her brother, and his boyfriend (who also happens to be Uncle Ned's old best friend's brother, because of course he is, because everyone he knows has a family tree that's way too confusing to follow, especially him. He thinks he and Renly are technically like third cousins or something). And Theon, of course Theon's there, and he grins and stands up as soon as he sees Jon, in his stupid little European speedo that makes Jon blush and gaze at the ground so as not to stare at his dick. He realises now this is the first time he's seen Theon since – since.

“Hey Snow, was starting to think you weren't coming,” Theon says as he approaches, clearly nowhere near as uncomfortable as Jon is. Reluctantly, Jon meets his eye again. “You should see how Robb pouts when you're not here.” Then, Theon smirks wider. “But to be honest, I was getting a bit lonely myself.”

Jon curses under his breath. Clearly, Theon isn't going to make this easy for him. He's going to make it very hard.

Luckily, Jon is quickly distracted by Robb sneaking up behind him and enveloping him in a giant bear hug, which both hurts his back and makes him feel very guilty for wanting so much to nail both his cousin's mother and his best friend. “Jon! You made it!” Robb says with that giant grin of his, and Jon laughs and says hello, before running off to find Sansa and say happy birthday, and hand over the pretty green necklace he bought her. He's half-afraid she'll take one look at it and realise how cheap it was, but no, she loves it. “Thank you Jon!” she says, throwing her arms around him. “You're the best cousin!” That only makes him feel guiltier. _Yeah, sure._

After that, he grabs a can of coke (he knows his aunt better than to think she'd let her sixteen year old daughter have alcohol at her party. She barely lets Robb drink) and makes his way to the pool. He's never been a swimming person, so he doesn't jump in, but he does take a seat on the edge and dangle his feet in the water. Margaery swims over to him. “Jon,” she says with her most charming smile. “Aren't you going to join us?”

Margaery is a very pretty girl, with her chestnut hair and big brown eyes. She's older than Sansa; a senior, almost his age. She even looks a little like Theon with that smirk of hers. She's exactly the sort of girl Jon should want to join in the pool. But still, he knows he won't be able to think about any woman other than his own fucking aunt that way for awhile yet, at least not while she's just inside, and despite all that says about him he has too many principles than to use another girl to try and distract himself. He shakes his head, and Margaery just shrugs and moves on. Jon sighs and greedily gulps from his coke.

“Not your type, Snow?” And Jon jumps a mile when he realises Theon is suddenly sitting beside him. Theon laughs. “I thought you liked brunettes. Maybe not as much as redheads, but still.”

Jon glares at him. _This is all his fault._ “I hate you, Greyjoy,” he says.

Theon laughs some more. “Really, Snow?” And, while everyone is distracted by an impromptu splashfight that's resulted from Arya dunking Sansa underwater, Theon reaches across and squeezes Jon's thigh, hard. Jon gasps. “Wouldn't have guessed.”

Jon smothers a groan and is torn between pushing Theon away and grabbing his hand to push it over his dick when Theon gets back up and dives into the pool, splashing Jon all over. _Prick._ At least the cold water tames his burgeoning erection somewhat. He sighs and presses his can to his forehead. Again, totally doomed.

About half an hour later, Catelyn finally makes it outside. And she's still out of breath. Jon knows she doesn't look like that because Theon's just fucked her now, he's kept an eye on Theon since he got here (by which he means, he hasn't been able to stop himself staring), but it's hard not to imagine it anyway. _She deserves to relax,_ he thinks. _She deserves to have a nice lie down, with someone making her come so hard she screams._

“Ahem,” she coughs to try and get everyone's attention, which doesn't really work, the crowd are all too loud and distracted. Jon though, Jon couldn't look away from her if he tried. “I need to get something down from a high shelf. I was hoping one of you boys taller than me could help?”

Most of the boys don't notice. Jon feels like he ought to volunteer himself, even though he thinks he's about the same height as her actually. That, and he can't fight the fear that if he's left alone in the house with her he'll bend her over the kitchen sink and fuck her so hard she won't be walking straight the rest of the day. Appearing rude and ungrateful might be better than that.

Before he can make up his mind, Theon stands up again. “I'll help, Mrs. Stark,” he says. And Jon watches.

Catelyn's eyes run over Theon's body, barely more than naked and dripping wet from head to toe. “Thank you, Theon,” she says with all the grace of a woman speaking in code. Jon's stomach lumps into his throat, and Theon grins as he follows his best friend's mum into the house. _He's going to fuck her,_ Jon thinks, and he averts his eyes, telling himself it's none of his business: not if he's kneeling down right there in the corridor, like he did for Jon, if she's on the couch again and spreading her legs, if he's taken her up to the bedroom and is bending her over the end of the bed...

A minute or so later, Jon looks up again. And he sees Catelyn, in the window of her bedroom, closing the curtains. He gulps. The bed it is then. Theon's going to fuck her in the same place Uncle Ned used to. _It's her damn bed,_ he reminds himself. _She can fuck whoever she likes in it._ And then, his brain can't help adding: _like me, for instance?_

“Jon?” And he jumps, looking down to realise Bran has floated over to him, and while squinting in the sunlight, is looking quite concerned. “Are you okay?”

“What? Oh, yeah,” he says, sounding quite out of breath himself. “Yeah, I just need to go to the toilet. Sorry, I'll be back in a second.”

Without thinking about it, he gets up, and heads inside. He leans against the door, and lets out a sigh. _What am I doing?_ In front of him, he sees a table with a bowl of chips on it, and a plate of homemade sausage rolls. He grabs one of the latter and moans softly as he bites into it. It can't be denied, his aunt can bake.

His moan is echoed from up the stairs. Hurriedly finishing his snack, Jon takes the first one up, all the while thinking _what am I doing, why would I do this, I should go back inside, I shouldn't let myself be tempted._ But he makes his way up, and as he climbs the moans and sighs emanating from his aunt's bedroom only get louder. His cock throbs in his shorts. “Oh, oh, oh,” he hears when he pauses outside the door. “Oh, _Theon_.”

A breathless laugh in response. “Quiet, Mrs. Stark,” whispers Theon. “You don't want anyone to hear you, do you?”

Jon swings the door open.

There's a loud gasp from the both of them, and they stop when they see him. Jon gulps when he sees them. They're both totally naked, her dry robe and sarong and swimsuit lying in a pile on the floor with his wet speedo. She's on all fours, facing Jon, her face contorted in pleasure as Theon fucks her from behind. Jon looks back and forth between the two of them, both their faces mixed between shock and ecstasy, and he feels like his dick is about to tear his damn shorts off.

Theon is the first to recover, of course he is. “Why hello Snow,” he says, and he thrusts once more into Catelyn's cunt. “Feel like you were missing out?”

Catelyn turns red in embarrassment, but she lets out a desperate moan as Theon resumes fucking her, making Jon suspect that secretly, she likes the thought she'd been caught, at least by the one person who already knows. “Theon,” she hisses, and he laughs.

“He wants to join in, Mrs. Stark,” he says, stating the fucking obvious. “He has done ever since he saw us. I didn't tell you one crucial detail. When he told me what he'd seen, he was so hard, I had to get on my knees and suck his cock just to calm him down. Dirty boy.”

Catelyn moans at that, her eyes drifting shut, and Jon's cock throbs so much he can't help but squeeze it. He knows Theon is totally right. _I want to fuck her, I want to fuck them both, of god, please._ “Jon,” she says in a strangled voice, and Jon's pulse races, terrified she's about to shout at him for being a pervert and a voyeur, for wanting to fuck his own aunt. She gulps. “Come here. Shut the door.”

Jon slams the door so loud he should worry that they might hear it outside, but he can't bring himself to care, too busy scrambling over to the bed and kneeling in front of Catelyn, panting and desperate for the two of them to do what they want with him. As soon as he's there she groans and reaches for him, trying to undo the tie of his shorts with shaky fingers, not aided as Theon starts slamming into her harder and faster. “Fuck, Theon.”

He grins again. “You like that, Mrs. Stark?” he asks, and she moans. “You want to suck his cock while I fuck you on all fours? Oh, aren't you filthy.”

Jon glares at him over her back. “Theon,” he says, somehow trying to take moral righteousness from the fact even if he's about to get a blowjob from his aunt, he wouldn't say such dirty thinks to her.

“She likes it when I talk dirty, Snow,” Theon tells him, and before Jon can argue Catelyn has his shorts pushed down to his knees, and her mouth wrapped around the head of his cock. Theon chuckles. “So do you.”

And Jon can only moan as Catelyn sucks him harder, faster, deeper. _Oh fuck._ He's not exactly had many girlfriends, technically only the one, and when he has, he's always been a little reluctant to ask them to do this, lest he seem like one of _those_ guys (eg. Theon). As a result, he's not actually gotten many blowjobs in his life. But even if he had, he thinks this would be something special. God, Catelyn sucks him so well, her cheeks hollowed out around his cock. She takes him so deep he's sure she's going to gag any second now, but no, she just keeps going, deep-throating him like a goddamn porn star. It's enough to make him wonder how practiced she is, if she used to do this for his uncle, but that thought makes him wince and so he tries to shake it away.

He wraps his hands through her beautiful soft red hair, unable to contain himself, slowly rocking into her mouth and Theon grins at him. “That's it, Stark,” he says as he fucks her hard, making her moan and gasp around his cock. “She likes it rough. She likes getting fucked hard behind her kids' back. Widowed mothers of five don't take it like this, huh?”

Catelyn moans and Jon can't help just face-fucking her, her mouth swallowing him almost to his balls. “Fuck,” he gasps, overwhelmed with guilt and need, and her hands reach up and massage his balls as he drives down her throat. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Between them, Catelyn lets out a strangled scream, trembling and clutching the sheets, and Jon gasps in shock. _She's coming,_ he thinks as his cock pulses in her throat, and Theon must be right then, and the thought almost has him coming too but he manages to hold back, just, tugging her hair far too roughly. He's not ready for this to be over, not yet.

As his aunt comes down off her peak Jon pauses, her lips still suckling just the head of his cock, and Theon pauses too, seemingly a little confused. “Something the matter, Snow?” he asks, breathless.

Jon pulls his cock out of Catelyn's mouth. “Let's switch positions,” he says. “I want to fuck her.”

Theon makes an irritated noise, but sighing between them, Catelyn interrupts. “It's only fair,” she murmurs, looking up at Jon and giving a small smile. “He hasn't had a turn yet.”

He huffs in irritation, but complies, pulling himself out of her and rolling off a condom. Jon groans as they start crawling around her body. “Wait,” she says, and they both look down at her as her eyes sparkle. “I want to see you kiss for me boys.”

Jon blushes, and Theon just sighs, as if he's used to such instructions. Before he knows it, Jon has Theon's hand on his face, and he's dragged into a kiss wet, lewd and devastating, Theon's tongue practically fucking his mouth. He moans obscenely as his cock throbs. God, he can't wait to be in her cunt.

He and Theon break apart, even more breathless than they were before, and Catelyn hums. “Alright, now continue,” she says, and Jon eagerly obeys, scrambling over on his knees to get into position. He bites his lip as he looks down and sees her cunt properly for the first time, folds dripping wet, surrounded by neatly trimmed red hair. _I want to come in her,_ thinks Jon, and then he curses himself again. He's not going to do that; that would be monstrously irresponsible. Even if he already put his cock in her mouth bare, and at her age, disease is probably a greater risk than pregnancy. It's not exactly like he thinks it's terribly likely she'd catch anything, but Theon, there's much greater room for doubt. With a sigh Jon grabs a condom off the bedside table, fumbling a little as he rolls it on. He's a good boy, partly.

As he gets himself ready, she moans. “Fuck me,” she gasps, and Jon can hardly refuse, thrusting into her in one swift, sure move. “Oh!” she cries out, and he groans as he feels her clenching around his dick, hot and tight as he dared to dream. He starts to move, hard and fast, and she moans like she loves it. “Oh fuck, Jon, Jon, Jon!”

“Shh, Mrs. Stark. Really don't want your kids hearing you moaning that name,” Theon chuckles as he slides into her mouth, long fingers running through her hair. His eyes twinkle as he looks across her back to Jon thrusting away. “Does it feel good? Is it everything you imagined?” Jon's not a hundred percent sure which of them Theon is talking to, but his only answer is a guttural growl. “Fuck, you two look good together. I could probably come just watching.”

Catelyn groans and gags a little as Theon fucks her throat, and Jon thinks the prick is lucky he doesn't have to find out. _One day, I should make him,_ he thinks and he moves faster. _Someday I should tie him up and make him whine and beg as I fuck her silly,_ and then he gasps as he realises he's thinking about doing this again, and that makes him spill precome into the condom.

“It's so fucking dirty, isn't it?” Theon asks, and Jon can't help himself; Theon was right, he _loves_ hearing the man talk dirty, and everything he says has Jon fucking Catelyn's cunt harder and harder, not that she protests. “You two fucking behind closed doors, aunt and nephew, at poor Sansa's birthday party and everything. Do you get off on that, you filthy things? Practically committing incest?” Catelyn moans and Jon mewls, shaking and knowing he's about to come. _Fuck, fuck, yes, I do, I'm so fucking dirty._ “The kids have no idea what we're getting up to, and you can't help but love the thought. Fuck. You should come in her sometime, Snow. I promise I'll get myself tested and stuff. I bet you'll love it. And she loves it, she loves come, she – _shit_!”

Jon blinks in surprise as a tremor runs all through Theon's body, his eyes wrenched shut as he shoots his load. Catelyn moans as she takes every drop of it in her mouth, and fuck, she really does love it, doesn't she? It's that thought that makes Jon gasp and drive himself balls-deep inside her, his Jon pulsing wildly as his orgasm overwhelms him, filling that condom with so much seed he's not sure the damn thing can take it, and Theon is right, he has to come inside her properly someday, he's not sure he could live with it if he didn't.

Catelyn mewls and Jon sighs, reaching in front of her to find her cunt, sopping wet as his prick softens inside her, and he rubs the little nub in front of it hard and fast. It doesn't take long before she gives a strangled gasp, shaking as she comes again, and god, Jon loves feeling her do it.

Once he pulls out of her, he watches as she gets up on her knees, grabbing Theon by the neck. He raises an eyebrow just before she smashes her mouth down upon his, and he moans into the kiss. Jon bites his lip. Then, when Catelyn pulls back, she looks over her shoulder and smiles, nodding toward Jon. Theon just crawls over the bed, grabbing Jon and pulling him into a kiss too, and then Jon _tastes_. He moans. Theon's come, a whole thick load of it, that Catelyn must have held onto in her mouth and then forced into Theon's own, giving it to him to give to Jon. Fuck, it should be disgusting, but Jon swallows every drop and licks along Theon's teeth, practically begging for more. When they part, Theon chuckles, and Jon blushes.

As they recover, Catelyn is the first to get up off the bed, grabbing her swimsuit and getting dressed again, only a little shaky on her feet. “I still need help with that shelf, Theon,” she says, and as she wraps her robe back over her, she seemingly doesn't notice the wet patch. “Jon, you should head back stairs. The children will wonder where you've gotten to.” She smirks.

She steps outside and Theon gets back up too, barely passing for dressed when he puts his swimsuit back on. He grins down at Jon. “Have fun, Snow?”

Jon, still naked, worn out and full of lust and guilt, groans. “This is all your fault, Greyjoy.”

Theon laughs at him. “You tell yourself that.”

When he goes back downstairs, Bran raises an eyebrow and points out that took a long time. Jon blushes and makes vague comments hinting at constipation, which Bran seemingly believes, because he wrinkles his nose and says “gross, Jon.” Still, it's a relief. As is the fact no-one else seems to have noticed, as they're all too preoccupied with a game of Truth or Dare that Margaery somehow talked Sansa into, even though it has her blushing pink throughout, and Robb pacing back and forth giving them a watchful brotherly glare. Jon winces nervously.

The game is soon interrupted though as Theon and Aunt Catelyn come back out, with what they ostensibly went to fetch in the first place, a fancy glass cake dish with a delicious-looking ice-cream cake on top, complete with sprinklers. Sansa squeals and leaps to her feet. “Oh Mum, you're the best!” she says and gives her a thorough hug and kiss to the cheek.

Catelyn smiles. “Just eat it before it melts dear,” she says, and Sansa nods, before everyone joins in a rousing chorus of _Happy Birthday_ as she blows out the candles.

Jon's never exactly been a big cake person, or a big ice cream person, but now he can't help but crave a slice. “Cake, Mrs. Stark?” he hears as he serves himself, and he looks up to see Catelyn, her work finally done, stretched out on a poolside chair and Theon by her side, offering her a plate.

She smiles. “Why thank you, Theon,” she says as she takes it, burying her plastic spoon in the ice cream and licking it obscenely. Jon curses under his breath as he watches, and they both look at him. Theon looks proud. Catelyn looks slightly embarrassed, but also can't help smiling.

Jon blushes. He knows he can't get out of this now. But then again, he doesn't really want to.

 


End file.
